Two Weeks
by Zan1781
Summary: Sara and Grissom are miles apart. What toll is the distance taking on them? Twoshot. GSR. Complete.
1. Sara

**A/N: **My mind is really unsettled right now, so I felt the need to write something. I don't know if this will help me focus or not, but I figured that it was worth a try! This will be a twoshot. Thank you to those of you who stop on by to read it, and I hope you enjoy!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Spoilers: **Up through 7x13, Redrum.

**Title: **_Two Weeks._

**Summary: **Sara and Grissom are miles apart. What toll is the distance taking on them? Sara's innermost thoughts.

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_I'll miss you_. His parting words to me were that he'd miss me. No hug goodbye, which I can actually understand, no smile goodbye, which I can actually understand, and no other thoughtful words to keep me company by, which in a sense, I can actually understand. Grissom is a private man, and our life together is still a private matter.

But two weeks gone, and I still haven't received a single phone call from him. No "Hello, Sara, how are you?" No "Hello, Sara, how are my arachnids?" No "Hello, Sara, how's the weather?" No chance to ask him the same questions, no chance to find out how his seminar is going, and no chance just to talk. Nothing. No phone call, no text message, no e-mail, and no snail mail. Just… silence.

Silence.

Two weeks gone, and I am still just waiting.

I don't want you to think that I am pining away for my significant other, who just happens to need some time away from his life in Las Vegas, because in all honesty, I am not. I can understand the need for space, because I myself am an extremely private person. But I miss him, you know what I mean? Grissom may not talk to me all that much about his feelings, and it may be difficult for him to share himself with me, but he does... and I share myself with him. I know that no matter what kind of a shift we are having in the present, and I know that no matter what kind of a shift we will have in the future, we still have each other to come home to. Except for now, that is. Now, we have no one. Now, we have nothing. No phone call, no text message, no e-mail, and no snail mail. Just… silence.

Silence.

Two weeks gone, and I am still just waiting.

And then you arrived. You, a tiny little innocent creature, protected by a cocoon. A pupa, in the chrysalis stage of development. You're a moth, right? And not a butterfly? I can't help but stare at you every single night and morning, wondering why Grissom sent you to me in the first place. Is he trying to tell me that even though he and I both have hard exteriors to protect us from the world, we will eventually be able to break free of our own isolationism? Is he trying to tell me that when he returns to Las Vegas, he and I will be able to start a new life together, much like you will, when you reach adulthood? Or is he simply trying to tell me that he's thinking about me? And if he _is _thinking about me, then why not just pick up the phone, or e-mail me? Why not just try to contact me, rather than remaining silent? Then again, why haven't I just picked up the phone, or e-mailed _him_? Why haven't I just tried to contact him, rather than remaining silent?

Silence.

Two weeks gone, and I am still just waiting.

In two weeks, Grissom will be home again, and all of my questions will be answered. In two weeks, Grissom will be home again, and we will have the chance to talk about… us. In two weeks, Grissom will be home again, and we will both have a very important decision to make.

Two weeks… Oh, what a tangled web we weave.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	2. Grissom

**A/N: **Life has left me with no time to write, so I really apologize for the delay in posting this. Thank you to everyone for reading and/or commenting on the previous chapter. As always, I sincerely appreciate any and all of your feedback!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Spoilers: **Up through 7x13, Redrum.

**Title: **_Two Weeks._

**Summary: **Sara and Grissom are miles apart. What toll is the distance taking on them? Grissom's innermost thoughts.

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_I'll miss you_. Why couldn't I have just said more to you? Why couldn't I have just hugged you goodbye, or flashed you a small smile, or just said or done something to take away your unhappiness? I know that I am a private man, and that our relationship is still a private matter, but I should have done something more to ease your heavy heart. I'll miss you, as I explicitly told you, but in hindsight, I don't think that that is what you really needed or wanted to hear from me. I should have told you the truth.

I should have told you that I'll miss you… _and_ that I love you.

But two weeks gone, and I still haven't called you once in order to explain myself. No "Hello, Sara, how are you?" No "Hello, Sara, how are my arachnids?" No "Hello, Sara, how's the weather?" Then again, you haven't called me, either. Are you upset with me for not being able to talk with you about my concerns? Are you upset with me for leaving so suddenly? How badly did I screw up this time? Will we ever be able to salvage our relationship? I miss you so much, Sara, and I desperately want to know how you're doing.

So if I want to talk to you that badly, then why can't I just pick up the phone to call you? You are constantly on my mind, and when it comes right down to it, I miss talking to you. I understand that I do not always share myself with you as much as you would probably like me to, but I've tried to work on that issue. I may not come right out and tell you how difficult of a shift I just had, or how frustrated I am with work, but I know that you are always there for me, and I hope that you know that I am always there for you.

Except… how can you _possibly_ know that I am always there for you, when I left without really talking to you in the first place about my rationale for leaving? It's been two weeks, and I still haven't called you to explain myself, or text messaged you, or e-mailed you, or even sent you a letter. I wish I knew what my problem was, but I don't. There's just something about you that makes me nervous and self-conscious.

I'm in love, that's what it is.

I'm in love, and I've never really _been _in love before. I don't know how to behave in a relationship, because relationships are unscientific in nature. I am a man of science and logic, and love is completely illogical. I know that I love you, and I know that I love being _around _you, so why can't I just _tell _you what is on my mind? Why can't I just tell you the truth?

Perhaps someday I will find the right words to describe my emotions to you. In fact, I wrote you a love letter, you know. I never mailed it, but I actually wrote you a love letter. I would have mailed it to you, too, but I didn't want the first time that I tell you that I love you to come from another man's heart. I'll give you the letter—and the sonnet—but only after I have figured out a way to tell you—in my own words—how much I love you.

And perhaps that day will come when the cocoon hatches. I hope that you are taking good care of the moth, because this moth is a symbol of our relationship, as you will soon see.

I love you, Sara, and I can't wait until I return home to you in two weeks. In two weeks, I will tell you the truth about my feelings toward you.

In two weeks, I will tell you that I missed you… _and_ that I love you.

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_Finis _


End file.
